


Learning to Walk Through Fire

by sophh



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Draco's Den's Roll-A-Drabble, Drinking, Implied alcohol abuse I guess?, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-29
Updated: 2020-09-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:08:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,390
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26718793
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sophh/pseuds/sophh
Summary: Draco was just trying to enjoy a drink. Percy Weasley was just trying to forget. What happens when the two of them get to talking and realize that they have more in common than they ever thought?AU in which the Weasleys didn't forgive Percy for fighting for the Ministry/against the Order.Written for Draco's Den's Roll-a-Drabble, August 2020.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Percy Weasley
Comments: 3
Kudos: 31
Collections: Draco's Drabbles





	Learning to Walk Through Fire

**Author's Note:**

> Prompts: Draco Malfoy, (quote) "What matters most is how you learn to walk through fire."

Draco tipped back the rest of his drink and heaved a sigh.

"Rough day?" a male voice commented from somewhere behind him.

Draco set his glass down with a soft _clink_ before twisting around in his seat. His eyes soon landed on none other than a curly-haired redhead—Percy Weasley. The _bossy_ one. He sighed again.

"You Weasleys are so prone to showing up at the worst possible times," he said, his words slurring together slightly. "What do you want?"

Weasley slid onto the stool next to him and signalled to the barkeep. "I'm getting a drink, Malfoy, or is that not what people do in pubs?"

"It is," Draco huffed, "but must you do so _right_ next to me?"

Weasley ignored his question. Instead, he asked the bartender for some 100-proof Firewhiskey.

Draco raised an eyebrow. "That's strong stuff." After a short pause, he added, " _Really_ strong stuff."

Weasley peered at him over his glasses, and Draco couldn't help but notice that the other man's eyes were a brilliant shade of blue. "I appreciate the concern, Malfoy, but I can handle myself."

Draco had been planning to leave, but this was an opportunity that he couldn't pass up.

"Right," he said, letting out a delicate snort. "I'd like to see this."

...

Weasley was getting increasingly more drunk. Draco could tell by the way his face grew redder and redder, and by the way his normally reserved nature became a thing of the past. It would have amused Draco more, had he not recognized the signs of someone trying to drown their demons. He recognized them because he had been down that road himself.

"Right then, Weasley," he said loudly, tapping the redhead on the shoulder, "How about I call someone to take you home?"

Weasley spun around, glasses askew, and frowned. "Haven't got anyone to call."

"Sure you do," Draco grumbled. "There are like, fifty of you Weasleys running around."

Weasley giggled, a clear sign that he really _was_ smashed.

"Which brother should I call?" Draco asked, making sure to speak slowly and clearly. "Which brother will come pick you up?"

Weasley's shoulder sagged, and the joy seemed to drain right out of his face. "None of them," he whispered hoarsely. "Please, Malfoy, you can't call any of them."

Draco's curiosity was piqued. He had always thought of the Weasleys as a tight-knit bunch, and yet...

"Alright, Weasley, let's switch you over to water and you can tell me all about whatever is troubling you."

...

"So, let me get this straight," Draco said. "Your family still hasn't forgiven you for your actions during the war?"

Weasley shook his head, a glum expression on his face. "Nope."

"And I thought _my_ family held grudges," Draco muttered. Louder, he said, "Well, it's their loss."

Weasley's gaze slid over to him. Unfocused though it was, Draco could see suspicion in it. "You're being awfully nice, Malfoy."

"Yeah, well, being disowned by your family will do that to a person, I guess," Draco replied.

Weasley's eyes widened almost comically. "Hang on. Your family _disowned_ you?"

"Well, my father did," Draco clarified. "He was none too pleased with my actions during the war either."

Lucius Malfoy had been furious that his son had "allowed" Harry Potter to save him. Never mind the fact that had Draco refused, he very likely would have perished.

No, his father apparently would have preferred a dead son to an indebted one.

"I'm sorry," Weasley said quietly, staring down at his glass of water. "For what it's worth, I don't think your actions were really your own."

Draco sighed and scrubbed at his face with one hand. "I tried to tell myself that for years, Weasley. Didn't really work."

"How did you deal with it, then? The guilt? And the fallout with your family?" Weasley was talking quickly now, as if he couldn't contain his questions a moment longer.

Draco chuckled darkly. "I'm not sure I'm the person to ask about those things."

"Please," Weasley pleaded. "No one else understands."

Draco contemplated the redhead for a moment, trying to ascertain how much he should divulge. It wasn't as if he thought Weasley would tell anyone what he said—from the sounds of it, he didn't have many people to talk to anyway—he just didn't like being vulnerable with other people. His father's distrust of others ran deeper than he cared to admit.

"Alright, Weasley," he said at last. "How much time do you have?"

...

"So what you're saying," Weasley said slowly, "is that I need to accept that my family may never speak to me again?"

He had sobered up a little in the half hour since Draco had begun speaking. His face had lost much of its redness and he was able to focus his eyes on objects—such as Draco's face—more easily.

"That's not exactly what I said," Draco sniffed, "but I suppose it's close enough. My point is, you can't undo what you did in the past, and you can't control your family's actions, either. All you can do is forge your own path, without them, and hope that they eventually come round."

"I've been trying to," Weasley said glumly. "I just miss them, you know?"

Draco reached out and gave the redhead's arm an awkward pat. "Not really, but keep going."

"I just care so much about what they think of me," Weasley continued, sounding as though he was close to tears. He looked up at Draco with those brilliant blue eyes. "I know it's stupid, but—"

"It's not stupid," Draco found himself saying. "I always wanted my father's approval too. I would have done anything for it—even murder an old man."

He bit his lip. Dumbledore's death wasn't something that he opened up about very often. When Weasley gave him a sympathetic look, he immediately wished that he could take back what he said.

"Never mind," he said hastily. "I—I get where you're coming from, that's all."

It was Weasley's turn to stretch a hand out. He laid it on top of Draco's in a gesture that felt both comforting and overwhelmingly intimate. Draco swallowed and tried to pull his hand away.

"Weasley—"

"Percy," the bespectacled man said firmly. "My name is Percy."

"I don't care—"

"If you didn't care, I doubt you would have spent all this time talking to me," Weasley said. "I think you need this as much as I do. That's why you haven't moved your hand away." He nodded down at their stacked hands.

Draco flinched and finally jerked his hand away. "I don't _need_ anything," he spat.

"Perhaps not," Weasley said, his voice gentler than Draco had ever heard it, "but I think that you _want_ something."

"What's that?" Draco sneered. "A _friend?_ "

"I think you want someone to care about you."

The redhead's words hung in the air for a moment. Draco wanted to deny them, to deliver a clever comeback that would hide his true feelings, but he found that he couldn't. Instead, he looked away, pretending to be interested in the faded menu that hung on the wall.

"Draco."

It was Weasley's use of his first name that made the blond turn his head back towards Weasley, despite every inclination not to.

"Yes?" he asked, his mouth suddenly dry.

"Am I wrong?" Weasley's query was almost challenging.

Draco closed his eyes so that he wouldn't have to meet Weasley's. "No," he managed.

"I could be that person," Weasley said quietly. "We understand each other, Draco."

Draco's mind was scrambling, trying to come up with an excuse to say "no" again, but he couldn't come up with anything. Weasley was right—they _did_ understand each other.

"I suppose it's not the worst idea I've ever heard—"

Draco's rather haughty reply was cut off by Weasley's lips on his own. His eyes widened in shock, but quickly grew half-lidded. He had missed the feeling of being cherished, wanted. His hands snaked upwards and wound themselves in Weasley's— _Percy's—_ curls, tugging him closer.

When the two finally came up for air, Draco stared at Percy.

"Well, well," he said, smirking slightly, "who knew you had it in you, Weasley?"

"Percy," the other man corrected, with a smile that suggested just a hint of mischief.

"Percy," Draco echoed, before leaning in to kiss him again.


End file.
